CSi: IN07: Assent
by A Rhea King
Summary: Nick is forced to deal with what he's become to protect Russell and Morgan at a crime scene.
1. Chapter 1

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Assent**

**By A. Rhea King**

**Chapter 1**

Normally Russell couldn't keep Morgan and Nick quiet on a drive to a crime scene. The two would jabber non-stop on ever-changing topics. It wasn't as bad as having Greg and Morgan in the vehicle – Russell rarely kept up with how fast those two changed subjects. Tonight, however, the opposite was true.

He knew why Morgan was quiet; she was sulking about a fight she'd had with her father. He'd walked into Ecklie's office, and into Morgan and her dad fighting about her new boyfriend. Ecklie was being protective; Morgan wasn't having anything to do with it. Russell left before he was drug into the middle of a family dispute.

Nick's silence was what concerned Russell. He was the reason Russell chose to take a crime scene on the Moapa Reservation. Russell wasn't sure why, but cases from the Reservation took weeks just to get initial labs and reports in, and involved several trips to the scene. Half the time, the body never even came to the morgue. He asked Ecklie once why that was; the Under Sheriff told him that the laws that applied outside of the fence that ran circumference the Reservation were not the same laws that applied within. Within months of starting in Las Vegas, Russell discovered that of all the CSI, Nick could get on the Reservation the fastest, move the cases the quickest, and close cases the soonest. It was an added bonus that Nick was always very happy to get the cases, although Russell wasn't really sure why.

The reason Russell found himself on one of these cases tonight was a problem with Nick that began showing up right after Catherine left. One that was getting progressively worse, and appeared when he was on scene of two very particular types of cases: fire deaths and possible suicides. It began with Nick talking his co-workers into playing a game every time he got one – something Russell put a stop to. That's when Nick's problem became more evident. At first he was edgy, jumpy, nervous, and excused himself a lot at these types of crime scenes. That phased into him being short-tempered, confrontational, talking to himself when he thought no one could hear, and grinding his teeth. But when sent to any other type of call, Nick was his old, easy-going self that everyone knew and loved – including Russell.

The strange behavior came to a head when Nick allegedly had a break down at a fire crime scene four nights ago, but there was no proof and Greg, Super Dave, and the two offers on the scene wouldn't give any details in writing or verbally. Russell first tried to talk to Nick in his office, but to his frustration the entire lab seemed to be running interference and wouldn't let them even start a conversation. Next he tried to get Nick some professional help. To his surprise it was Ecklie who interfered. He called Russell into his office and began quoting their tight budget, shortage of personnel, and a handful of other reasons as to why now wasn't a good time to be asking Nick to take time off for a psychiatric evaluation. He also mentioned that this had been done months before Russell began and the psychiatrist found nothing wrong with Nick, so they should be done with this business.

It became clear that he was never going to get Nick alone to speak to him by conventional methods, so he decided to try an unconventional one instead. As soon as this call came in, he pulled Greg off the call and assigned himself, Nick, and Morgan. His had hoped Morgan and Nick usual chatter would help him segue into discussing the issue with Nick. But even that plan backfired, leaving him stuck on a Reservation case he knew was going to take weeks to resolve. It was enough to make him irritable.

"Take this road here," Nick quietly directed Russell, pointing the way to go.

Russell slowed so his headlights showed the side of the road. All he saw was dry packed desert and nothing that looked like a road.

So he argued, "This isn't a road."

"It is a road. You need to turn here."

"We should go to the main road and—"

"Why didn't you just leave Greg on this call? He's been training to be my backup on these calls since… Since Langston quit."

"We're going to the Tribal Police office." Russell started driving again.

"Okay. But we'll sit there for hours, on some really uncomfortable benches, and then get sent back to this road here. We'll go to Ansel Little Foot's house and wait until Grams makes the council decide to okay us to going to the crime scene. Or we can speed things up b going straight to Ansel's house and getting the decision quite a bit faster."

Russell slammed on the brakes. Nick, prepared for the stop, braced himself with a foot against the dash. Morgan wasn't. She tumbled forward with equipment, landing with her head between the seats and staring up at the two. She quickly scrambled back out of sight.

"And why would they send us back here? And who is Grams? Why would she – I assume Grams is a she – make them speed up their decision? And why do we have to wait to go to the crime scene? They called us."

Nick sat his foot down. "It doesn't work that way, D.B. When you get called out to the Moapa Reservation, it's an invitation. And no one is allowed close to the body until the elders and the Tribal Police have discussed it. Meanwhile, we sit at Ansel Little Foot's house – he's the Tribal Police sheriff – have some coffee, get glared at by Grams, and wait. Once they decide we can go to the crime scene, they come and get us, and we go do our thing. As for Grams, she doesn't like having company. When she gets tired of our company, she starts calling the council every half hour – you can see how that might speed their decision up, can't you?"

"We have to get approval to go to the crime scene? You didn't think to mention that before now?"

"You pulled Greg at the last minute and acted like you were mad, so I kept my mouth shut until now."

"You pulled Greg out of the Denali. There was no last minute to it." Morgan said, almost under her breath.

Russell turned to see if she was pouting, but couldn't see her in the dark.

"When I started, Warrick and Grissom were the only ones that handled these cases, "Nick explained. "Then Grissom and I took them. When Langston came on, Grissom asked me to train him, but he left, so I picked up Greg as the new trainee. When he left, I got handed them. So, if you want to handle a case on the Res, you need to do it like I tell you or you'll make things take a whole hell of a lot longer. And besides, Jeremiah – Ansel's grandson – is waiting at the gate for us. I called ahead and told him we were coming."

"You couldn't have lead with that?" Russell asked. With almost a growl, he tromped the gas to turn onto the imaginary road and speed off down it.

"Slow down!" Nick said, but it was too late. They hit a pothole that bounced everyone.

Recovering from the pothole, Russell slowed down and now could see the road Nick pointed out.

"We have a road. This is better," Russell commented.

Nick chuckled. It was warm and kind, and softened the mood inside the Denali. He glanced at Nick, finding he was smiling. He really was looking forward to this case and Russell was beginning to understand why he loved these cases so much. It wasn't because of someone who died. It was because he had cultivated relationships with the people they would be dealing with, taken the time to understand them – something Russell was sure his mentor had taught him to do, and from that he had a deep respect for them.

Coming over a small hill, they saw a gate in the middle of the road. Hanging in the middle of it, and riddled with bullet holes, was a warning sign that the land behind this gate belonged to the Paiutes tribe and it was not governed by the United States. They were to enter at their own risk.

The gate began to swing open and from the dark a man stepped into the headlights to push it the rest of the way open. He wasn't dressed much different than Nick. The only thing that distinguished him was his long black hair and dark skin. He motioned Russell to drive forward. He did, intending to continue.

"Stop," Nick said.

"Why?"

"That's Ansel's grandson, Jeremiah. He'll want a ride back."

"Nick, we are not—"

"If you don't want to make this a waste of time, stop."

Russell glared at Nick, but stopped.

After a moment, the side door opened and what Russell had thought was a man, turned out to be a boy in his mid-twenties. He smiled at Morgan as he got in. She timidly returned it and scooted over. He plopped down beside her, flicking his hair back over his shoulders. Nick turned and the two slapped their hands into each other's followed by a solid shake.

Russell started driving again.

"How's Vegas?" Jeremiah asked.

"It's Vegas. How's your grandpa?"

"Dying."

"Sorry to hear that."

"So is he." Jeremiah grinned, his white teeth bright in the dim dash light. "And tomorrow he'll be a day closer to it. Hey, where's Greg?"

"He got another case tonight. How is Yale?"

Jeremiah grinned. "Love it. Great to get away from this heat."

"I was surprised to hear your voice when you answered," Nick told him. "Why are you back? Isn't it the middle of a semester?"

"Gramps told me I had to come back."

"Why?"

"I don't know. You know how he is. He gets all mystical and stuff and the world ends."

Nick grinned. Morgan laughed.

"And what was mystical about this time?" she asked.

In a false baritone but feeble voice, Jeremiah told her, "You need to come home and stay until the new moon wanes. The Great Spirit has work for you to do here."

Morgan smiled. "And what does that mean?"

"Hell if I know. Maybe I get the winning ticket for Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory."

They laughed.

"And what if you hadn't come back?" Russell asked.

"Oh I'd never hear the end of it and when some great disaster happened, the whole tribe would blame me. Besides, it gave me a good reason to take a semester off. You'd be surprised how easy it is to get a semester off from Law School when you tell them it's for religious purposes."

"I bet," Morgan commented.

"It's that one there. With all the lights on. They're expecting you guys. They'll be surprised to see Morgan."

"Why? Because I'm a girl?"

"Naw. Cuz you're the Under Sheriff's daughter. They don't much care for your dad."

"Shocker."

Jeremiah smiled. "Hey. I like her. Can she hang out?"

"After work, Jeremiah," Nick told him.

"Yeah?" Jeremiah looked at Morgan. "After work then?"

"We'll see," she said with a grin."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Nick busily typed on his laptop, occasionally consulting one of the case files sitting at his elbow. He had been merrily catching up on work ever since they'd been abandoned at Jeremiah's house. Russell and Morgan, both new to this experience in their work, hadn't brought anything to keep them occupied except for their tablets and phones. Almost simultaneously, the two discovered there was no cell reception here or wireless Internet. Russell asked if there was any way to get online. Nick said there was dial-up. Morgan, apparently from the age of high-speed Internet everywhere, didn't get the concept. Nick was the first to give up trying to explain the situation to her.

She finally settled into playing games on her tablet. Russell played all five games on his phone and tablet. There were only three rooms. A kitchen, living room, and a bedroom with six beds. He could see the feet of two people in the bedroom. An elderly Paiute, Grams, sat in an easy chair in front of a television with static reception, her eyes glued to the screen. In her hand she clutched a cordless phone, and about every half hour she was calling someone, asking them if these people were leaving her house yet.

"How long does this usually take, Nick?" Russell asked.

"Hm?" Nick asked, looking up from his laptop.

"How long does it usually take them to decide if we can investigate a crime scene?"

Nick shrugged, looking at his paperwork. "A couple hours. Or a couple days."

Russell turned in his chair, staring at Nick.

"Why so long?"

"Hm?" Nick looked up again.

"Why does it take so long?"

"Like what? What do they have to talk about and decide?"

Nick shrugged, turning back to his paperwork. "I don't know. I've never asked."

"How many cases have you had that were from the Reservation?"

Nick looked up, thinking. "This would be my twenty… fourth? Fifth? Something like that." Nick went back to work.

"And of those, how many did it take days for the elders to decide you could work the case?"

"Three. No, four."

"Have they ever decided you couldn't work a case?"

"Yeah. There was one."

"Do you know why?

"Why I couldn't work the case?"

"That as well, but why some took days for the elders to decide."

"The one I couldn't work was an exiled Paiute. I don't know why the decided I couldn't work it, but they did. The four that took days were also Paiutes and no one wanted to touch the bodies. They had to perform some kind of ritual to seal the area or something. To this day I still don't get what they were talking about."

"I'm confused. It took them days to decide to let you investigate because they didn't' want to touch the bodies until they did a ritual?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"The tribe thought they were Legend People."

Russell was shaking his head before the words came out. "What are Legend People?"

"They're like… Uhm… You'd call them demons, I guess. They can take over a person's body and make them really sick, even kill them."

"You believe that?"

"Doesn't matter if I did or didn't, they weren't letting me near those bodies until they cleansed the area so the soul can return to the village it came from until the Creator of Men places it back on earth."

"Sounds like crazy talk to me," Morgan muttered.

"Say that very quietly; Grams is listening," Nick told her.

Russell and Morgan looked at the old woman. She was watching them, her black eyes seeming to burn into them. Russell was the first to look away, back at Nick. He was busy typing again.

"Do you visit people on the reservation often?" Russell asked.

"Yeah. I have a lot of friends out here."

"Níłchʼi yáłtiʼ," Grams said.

Nick chuckled. He said something to her in Paiute. She shook her head, saying the same more insistently. Nick got up and walked over to her, sitting on the footstool. The two spoke quietly for a while. Grams leaned forward and said something very firmly, pointing at the floor. Nick frowned at her, shaking his head. She said it again, with a firmer point at the floor. Nick shrugged.

The front door opened. Jeremiah returned with two elderly Paiutes and his father.

"Okay. You can go to the crime scene now," Jeremiah told them, "But you're gonna wanna hurry."

"Why? What's wrong?" Russell asked as he stood up.

"There's a storm coming. It's going to be bad and the scene is down in an old river bed. It's going to get soggy fast."

Nick began to hastily repack his backpack. "If I didn't know better," Nick started as he turned and smiled at the Paiutes. "I'd say you four planned on this. Just to see us scramble."

They all laughed.

All except Grams. She told Nick, "You already scramble, Níłchʼi yáłtiʼ."

The room fell quiet and they all turned to her. She stood in the middle of the living room, her dark eyes watching Nick.

Jeremiah scolded her. "Don't call Nick a name in another tribe's language, Grams. That's not nice."

"Him being in my house isn't nice. I have to do it to stay safe when he's around."

"When has anything bad ever happened when I was here?"

"There was the bowls that broke, and—"

"You dropped them because the dog ran into you."

"That you let in."

"That I didn't know was behind me when I opened the door."

She made a disapproving noise. "Just like the others. Arrogant. All of you."

"What others?"

She didn't answer him.

Nick laughed "Sleep well, Grams."

"Sleep? No. Not tonight. No one should sleep tonight."

"Why?"

"Tonight is wrong. Tonight something is going to happen. I feel it."

"You're right, Grams. I'm going to go take a white man back to Las Vegas and find out who killed him." Nick headed out the door. "Come on Russell, Morgan! Or we're going to get wet!"

"Hey, has anyone called for a coroner?" Russell asked as he hurried out.

Morgan rushed to put her things in her backpack. She jumped when a hand grabbed her wrist. She stared at Grams.

The woman slowly told her, "When he tells you run, you run."

"When who tells me to run?"

"Níłchʼi yáłtiʼ. You run, girl." Grams turned and shuffled back into the bedroom. "Death has no interest in you tonight. Run!"

"MORGAN!" Russell bellowed.

She grabbed her backpack and dashed out the door.

#

The thirty-minute drive to the crime scene was uneventful. The convoy of vehicles stopped a safe distance from the edge of the dry river bed. Jeremiah had ridden with them and leaned between the seats from the back.

"Wait here. The old ones have to bless the land and ask permission for you to be here." He turned to Russell, assuring him, "This won't take long."

He got out and joined the Paiutes.

"Now I wish I'd brought my lunch," Morgan complained.

Russell smiled. He did too. Somewhere in the distance he heard coyotes howling. The wind began to pick up and small pieces of sand softly pelted the side of the Denali. The three sat in silence, waiting for the ritual to end.

Nick lurched forward with a sharp gasp. His hands flew up to grip the dashboard as if he was expecting the Denali to unexpectedly crash into a wall. The sudden movement made Russell nearly jump out of his skin and stare at Nick. In the silence Russell could heard his breathing become short and raspy. The whole incident happened in seconds, but it felt much longer.

"Are you okay?" Russell asked, reaching out to Nick.

Nick bolted from the Denali, slamming the door behind him. He walked to the front of the Denali, keeping a hand against it. But he never looked away from whatever had gotten his attention and was terrifying him.

From the darkness behind him, Morgan's disembodied voice softly commented. "That was weird. Why did he just do that?"

"That's a very good question, Morgan, and I don't have a very good answer."

They sat for several minutes, watching Nick's back. Russell saw movement out of the corner of his eye and focused on that instead. The Paiute elders were getting in their vehicles and Jeremiah was walking toward the Denali. Russell's eyes flicked to Nick when he stood up straight. He was smiling, acting if nothing strange had just happened to him.

"Let's go see if the corpse is still dead, Morgan," Russell told her, and the two got out to join Nick and Jeremiah.

"Agreed. Let's go see if our corpse is still dead."

She chuckled, getting out. The two joined Nick and Jeremiah.

"What was the blessing for what?" Russell asked him.

He watched the old men drive away, their tail lights quickly disappearing into the dark. One pickup stayed behind.

"There's a burial ground across the river bed. They had to ask their permission to be here so they wouldn't cause trouble."

Russell gave Jeremiah a level stare. "Does that happen often here?"

Jeremiah grinned. "That answer is all in the faith of the person. Some would say yes, you would probably say no."

"I'd rather they didn't cause problems too," Morgan chimed in.

"They can be ornery. So I have to go back to the gate and wait for the State Patrol."

"Why?" Russell asked.

"I don't know. My grandfather called them before we came to let you know that you could investigate the crime scene. He does crazy things like that, but we know better than to question it."

"There was something more crazy than that tonight?" Morgan asked him.

"Oh yeah. After I let them in, he wants me to go check on a bridge further down. In the dark!"

"Then why do it?" Morgan asked, smiling.

"He's an elder." Jeremiah shrugged. "I may think what he does doesn't make sense, but somehow it always turns out best if you do what he asks. He's the one that insisted Nick be here tonight."

The three looked at Nick, but his attention was riveted to something in the dark.

"Nick," Morgan said.

He didn't respond.

She smacked his arm and his attention immediately returned.

"What?"

"Jeremiah's grandfather wanted you here tonight. Did you know about that?"

"Uh… Yeah. He called after 911 was called and asked me to I take the call."

"Uh-huh. This place gets stranger by the minute." Russell turned and went back to get his kit.

"Jeremiah, come on!" the man in the pickup called.

"Just a minute, Dad. Don't forget you're on Mother Nature's time tonight." Jeremiah sprinted over to the pickup and vaulted into the back of the pickup. The pickup lurched forward as soon as he patted the side and disappeared into the dark.

The three stood in silence, watching where it had disappeared. In the distance a coyote began yipping before the entire pack broke into howls and yips. Wind gusted past them, gently pelting them with sand. Russell turned to his two CSI, barely able to see them in the dim light of the stars.

"Let's break out some work lights and get this show started," Russell told him.

"Oh… Work lights?" Nick asked. "Was I supposed to pack those for this case?

Russell sighed. "You forgot to put work lights in?"

Nick started laughing as he walked to the back of the Denali. Russell smiled when he heard Morgan start laughing. The two followed Nick.

#

Morgan crouched with her camera, trying to decide if the piece of metal in the dust was evidence or irrelevant. She decided to opt for evidence and lifted her camera.

"No," she heard Nick quietly say and looked up.

He was fighting with a flood light, trying to pull the extender on it. He stopped, and visibly sucked in a deep breath. "I said no," Nick muttered, and then shot a dark glare off to his right. She looked right, at the next flood light, and then darkness. What was he looking at?

She stood up and joined him. Together the two were able to get the riser to loosen and lift, and discovered dried mud had caused the jam. It came out in puffs of dust as they lifted the riser higher before Nick locked it into place.

"Day shift," Nick said with a shake of his head.

She smiled. Every shift blamed these things on every other shift. It was a never-ending trend.

"Was that the argument earlier?"

The dead man was lying in the open back door with his feet hanging out of the van. He had a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be, and half of his face was missing. Russell was currently searching the glove box for any identification and the two paused for a moment to watch him.

"Earlier?" Nick asked Morgan.

She was caught off-guard and had to think about the question for moment. She remembered the question she had just asked. "When you were saying no were you talking about day shift."

Nick grabbed his kit and walked away without answering her. She shrugged and walked back to the piece of metal.

"No!" she heard Nick whisper.

She looked over her shoulder. He was standing still, acting as if someone was trying to touch him. He lifted a hand and retreated a step. She looked back at the metal. Whatever he was upset about wasn't getting the case solved. She looked up when she heard thunder in the distance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The rain came with gusting winds that turned the drizzle into water that stung exposed skin. It sent Nick and Morgan scrambling to cover as much of the scene with tarps as they could.

Nick ran over to the stack one of the State Patrol above them had tossed down. He turned and stumbled to a stop to keep from running into a man. It took a heartbeat to realize this was not a living man. It was his clothes, or lack of them, which told Nick that. He wore moccasins, britches, and a shirt of skin and decorated with shells and stones. The fact he wasn't getting wet was an even bigger clue that this man was not really there. He spoke to Nick, motioning up the river bed wall where their vehicles were. Nick shook his head a little and ran around him.

"You cannot be here," someone said, their voice sounding like they running right next to him.

He stopped and turned. A young woman stood there. Like the man, Nick instinctively knew she was not alive. He turned to leave her and found a woman in a faded dress and holding a baby and a Paiute man in a suit were blocking his way

"You have to leave," the man said.

"I have every right to be here," Nick snarled at him as he stepped through him to keep working.

He glanced at the van. He could see Russell's flashlight dancing around inside.

The sky suddenly opened up and the shower became deafening. Normally rain didn't bother him, but tonight the spirits of the dead kept appearing, as if the rain was hiding them in deep shadows. And in words he both understood and words that he assumed meant the same, they told him he didn't belong there. They went from a few to a couple dozen, to what felt like a mob. Somehow his mind became convinced he couldn't just walk right through them and he froze, boxed in by Paiutes chanting the same phrase in their language and English.

It overwhelmed him so much that he forgot there were other people around and bellowed, "Why don't I belong here!?" Nick bellowed.

Silence.

A child coward against a woman.

A baby began whimpering.

Even in the heavy downpour he could hear them all breathing.

"If you can't tell me why I don't belong here, leave. Me. Alone."

No one spoke. Nick took a step in the direction he was headed. The ground felt like it shuddered. He looked up, finding an old, withered man in front of him. He spoke but Nick couldn't understand his language. Nick started to shake his head.

He heard a woman behind him translate, "There is water coming. It will be here soon. If you are here, if she is here—" He pointed and Nick looked, seeing Morgan. "If the man in the metal cave is here, you will all die. You all die. You do not belong here. Not tonight."

Nick looked at the van, where Russell was. He turned, watching Morgan darting in and out of the work lights as she rushed to cover things. The world felt like it was in slow motion suddenly, giving him time to look at each and every face that surrounded him, to see details. Water glistening off hair. Buttons catching light. Slivers of light escaping from the windows in the van. Above him, two State Patrolmen waiting at the edge to help.

"I've never had…" Nick didn't even know where to go with this. "Dead people… They don't…"

The old man spoke again, and a man translated, "You are a seer, but you have not accepted it. You have helped our children, now we help you. But you are nearly out of time."

Nick was stunned. These were nothing like the people who died in fires or the suicides. These dead people weren't wandering around lost. They had come to this one place to warn him of danger, and…

The ground shuddered again, like a truck had just rumbled past him. Nick looked down, moving his light to the ground. Small, light pebbles were bouncing on the sand. He looked up and found the spirits had left. The ground trembled slightly stronger than before. In his imagination, water was crashing down through the dried up river bed, heading straight for them.

Nick ran over to Morgan, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to her feet.

"Nick!"

"RUN! GO UP THE BANK! RUN!" Nick yelled, pushing her toward the bank.

"Wh—"

"RUN GOD DAMNIT!"

She ran.

Nick ran over to the van, grabbing Russell's leg.

"We've got to go, D.B."

"I found evidence. Can you hand—"

"NOW! WE HAVE TO GO NOW!"

Russell turned, staring at him. He lifted his light to Nick's face.

The trembling in the ground was getting stronger.

"COME ON!" Nick grabbed Russell's arm. But when he tried to pull Russell out, he was kicked away.

"Nick, I don't know—"

"THERE IS A FLOOD COMING. COME ON!"

Russell looked out the windows, then back at Nick. He turned, doing something.

"Russell!"

"Get to safety. I have to grab this one thing."

"Russell, we don't have time. We—"

"I will be right behind you, Nick."

Nick hesitated. He looked up when lightening tore at the sky. Was he hearing water rushing out of the darkness towards them?

Nick reached for Russell. He felt something on his neck and turned. The withered man pointed at the bank and barked a word at Nick. Nick ran for the bank. The lightening became more frequent, lighting the land in purple-blue light. It ripped at the clouds and attracted bolts from the ground all around him. The bank was 10 feet of steep and crumbly sand and baked clay. It was hard for Nick to find good footing and hand holds, but his will to live made him work his way up.

He could hear someone screaming above him. He glanced back. Russell was standing next to the van doing something. Nick reached the top and saw Morgan screaming at Russell. Two State Patrolmen stood with her, also yelling for Russell to hurry. He was about to pull himself over the lip when she lowered herself down, and he knew she was headed down for Russell. Nick pulled himself up, brushed away the State Patrolman reaching for him, and ran down to where he could grab her. He fell on his stomach as she dropped over the lip. He grabbed her under the arms and hauled back.

"LET ME GO! NICK LET ME GO!" She tried to claw him and kicked her feet out.

The State Patrolmen helped him pull her out of the river bed. Nick plopped her down on her butt and was on his feet before her. She leapt up and tried again, but he was ready this time and grabbed her arms to pull her back. She spun around and punched across his cheek.

"LET ME GO!"

He let her turn so he could pull her into a bear hug. She screamed and stomped, calling for Russell to hurry. Suddenly she stopped fighting him. He lifted his head, hearing a sound louder than the rain. The two turned their head toward the sound. In the lightening they could see a wall of water racing down the river bed – straight toward their supervisor. Nick, Morgan, and the State Patrolman screamed as loud as they could for him to hurry.

Russell had made it a foot up the bank. Then lightening all too conveniently lit the world so the four could watch the wall of water swallow him.

Nick froze; his mind was momentarily unable to process what he'd just seen. Morgan went limp in his arms, crying hard. He let her go and she slid down to her knees. He began shaking so hard he felt like he should join her.

"This is a start," a small voice said behind Nick.

He turned. The child he'd first seen stood behind him.

"What?" Nick asked. He didn't care if Morgan heard him.

The girl smiled. "This is a start, seer. You have taken a step toward understanding. There will be more lessons to learn, they will be difficult, but you will learn. Or you fail."

"I… I had to learn how to lose a friend?" Nick hissed.

"Nick?" Morgan said. "Who are you talking to?"

The girl smiled. "Have you lost a friend, Nick?" And she left Nick standing in the pouring rain beside a roaring river, unsure whether he should be happy or mourning.

#

He heard a ceaseless roar and the boom of thunder felt like it was coming inside his head. Russell tried to shake his head but that made things hurt. Things seemed to be every inch of his body. He moved an arm and grimaced when spikes of pain ripped across his chest, down his ribs, and across his back.

"Hey. Hey Russell," someone said. The person put a hand on his shoulder, making it hurt more. "Hey, don't let go. No-no-no! I know you're probably hurting but you have to hang on. Hang on, man."

Russell opened his eyes to darkness and warm water falling on him. Lightening ripped open the sky overhead, a scythe through darkness. He was cold, a sensation he hadn't felt since he had moved to Nevada. He felt the hand on his shoulder again and turned his head. The lightening revealed a face, but the person's long black, wet hair made it impossible to see. Russell looked up, realizing he was hugging the middle of a tree. In fact, he was almost to the top of the tree. He hadn't been this high in a tree since he was a teenager. Why was he holding onto a tree? Why was he so high up in it?

"Where… What…" Russell's brain stopped on the constant roar when it became suddenly conscious of the noise.

He looked in the direction that felt like down, into the darkness under his feet that dangled off the branch he sat on. The next flash of lightening revealed that mere inches below his one bare foot, and one foot with a shoe, was a roaring surge of churning water. His brain stopped on that. This was too much for it to process in the few minutes it had returned to consciousness.

"Hey. Hey!"

The water leaned closer to his eyes when the lightening flash. He felt a hand grab his arm and fingers dig painfully into his skin.

The last thought that ran through his mind before everything went black and numb was: Who had told Nick a flood was coming?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

State Patrol learned that north of them was a reservoir. The state was already aware the dam was unstable and repairs had begun a month ago. Like all massive state projects, movement progressed steady and slow. They hadn't reached the critical area on the dam's west flank yet. The entire situation quickly became a perfect blend of bad luck. A storm stalled further up the river that fed the reservoir – the same one that now crawled south now with persistent downpours. For the repairs the flood gates were closed, and the signal to alert whoever was responsible for opening them, failed. The west flank couldn't hold back the water anymore and disintegrated while everyone else has been sleeping.

Knowing all that didn't make Morgan feel better about watching her supervisor and friend, disappear and most likely be killed. She watched dirty brown water churn through the river bed in the gray sunrise. Overhead dark clouds swollen with rain were threatening to let loose more rain. She gnawed on her bottom lip, staring at the spot the crime scene had been. The same spot she'd watched Russell disappear into a wall of water.

"Morgan," Nick said.

She didn't turn away.

"Come on. Let's get you some dry clothes."

"He's not dead," she said.

"I didn't say that."

She looked at Nick with a dark look. "Why did you stop me? I could have saved him!"

He didn't argue with her. He put one hand on her arm and another on her shoulder, and before she realized it they were walking the Denali.

"I could have saved him," Morgan stubbornly repeated, even though it came out barely louder than a whisper.

He slid his arm around her shoulder, but didn't speak. Outside the passenger door he grabbed the blanket off the seat and wrapped it tight around her, then guided her inside and fastened her seatbelt. She watched him walk around and get in. Nick started the engine and stopped moving. She watched his bottom lip tremble and heard his breath get raspy, and then it was over. He put the vehicle in drive and headed back down the road, back toward Las Vegas.

"I want to help look for him," she told him.

He nodded.

"We can't leave."

"We'll come back."

"I want to help now."

Nick didn't answer. Instead he stopped the vehicle. Morgan watched him stare out the window.

"Nick."

He still didn't answer. It made her burst into fresh tears.

"Nick, talk to me. You can't… You have to stay with me. We have to look for him, for his body."

"If you want to help get out," he quietly told her. "I have to go tell Barbara… Tell her that… Her husband might be… That he's missing. Get out if you're staying."

Morgan's stomach sank. She'd forgotten all about Russell's wife, and that someone had to tell her. Nick wasn't one to deliver news like that over the phone, so of course he would drive back to tell her.

"No. I'll go with you. You shouldn't have to do that alone."

Nick nodded and started driving again.

"We didn't have any warning," she said to herself. She unexpectedly remembered the events clearly, as vivid as if they had just occurred. "You pulled me out of there before it hit. How did you know it was coming?"

"The ground was shaking."

"I didn't feel it."

"I did."

"I didn't."

"I don't care if you didn't!" Nick almost screamed.

They were silent for several minutes. A tear slipped down his cheek.

"I can't do this with you right now, Morgan," Nick quietly told her. "Do you understand? Either you believe me or you don't, but either way I need you to stop talking."

She looked down at her hands, discovering that they had dried mud on them.

"Do you think… He's dead?"

Nick didn't answer.

"Nick?"

Softly he answered, "I don't know, Morgan. Please stop talking."

She nodded and mouthed, 'Okay.' She looked out at the wet desert, colored with blossoms that would only be alive for a day or two.

#

Russell felt like he was gliding. He opened his eyes and immediately closed them against the bright light of day. It felt like he had been rolled into a rug, but he still shivered from being cold. He heard two people talking in a language he didn't understand, wood creaking, and horse hooves clopping at a steady trot. He turned his head and opened his eyes again. The sky was dark with almost black clouds. His eyes drifted to the wood next to him. He heard a soft voice say something and something poked his shoulder.

He turned his head, staring at the little girl kneeling next to him. She had dark skin and long, coarse black hair. She was wearing a rain poncho that almost hid her jeans and pink wader boots. She looked up and said something louder. A young man, probably in his mid-twenties, appeared next to her.

"You're awake," he said, as if Russell wasn't aware of that.

"Yeah. I'm… Where am I?"

"We're still on the Moapa Res. We're heading for the caves before it starts raining again. The flood will get wider when it starts raining again. Everyone is headed to higher ground for the night."

Russell looked up at the dark clouds. They looked like they could let loose at any minute.

"Were you with me last night?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Russell."

The man laughed a little. "Must've hit your head real hard. We met last night before things got real. I'm Jeremiah."

"Everything is pretty vague right now. Can you remind me how we met?"

"We met last night when you came with Nick and Morgan to investigate a dead man shot in a van."

"It's starting to come back now. You left to get the State Patrol."

"Yeah, and then go check a bridge. I heard the water coming and got up a tree. The water took out the bridge, but not the tree. Then you were snagged in the tree – I thought for sure you were dead but you had a pulse and were in and out all night until my father found us. Guess you have something to live for."

Russell smiled a little. "A lot, actually. Why aren't we just going to town?"

"We're six miles from the nearest road and it cuts across the river valley; we'd never make it out before it starts raining. We'll wait it this out in the caves and then get you out of here."

"I hurt, Jeremiah."

"You have a broken leg, some pretty deep cuts on your back, and a big bump on your head."

"I need a hospital, sounds like."

"Yeah, but we can't get you to one just yet. You'll have to settle on a healer for now."

"Is he any good?"

Jeremiah wagged his head. "He's not senile, if that's what you mean. Sometimes he gets a little over zealous. I'll keep an eye on him."

Russell smiled. He liked this young man.

"Just relax. We'll be there soon," Jeremiah assured him.

The man disappeared out of sight, leaving the girl. She smiled at Russell and he returned it. She laid down next to him. She began pointing at the sky and rattling on about whatever she was pointing at. He let his mind drift as it began to reconstruct the events of the night, some of which were insight into Nick's strange behavior.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Rain poured on the Denali as Nick wove through traffic. He said perhaps ten words since they had reached Las Vegas. She chalked it up to him concentrating on keeping them from ending up a statistic. Every road they drove down was a rapid running stream. The main roads were riddled with car accidents. He had avoided underpasses, or any road that dipped, knowing the water was hiding lakes deeper than cars.

Morgan thought about how the day was strange for Nevada. Partly because of the weather. She had spent half her life growing up here. Her early school years taught her that Las Vegas was situated between two mountain ranges and when storms couldn't make it over the mountains, they would stall, and could last for two or three days. Because this was the desert, the sand and hard clay didn't absorb all the water, and it could only go where people least wanted it to.

But the stranger part was how surreal everything had felt as soon as they'd hit city limits. She barely remembered stopping at her apartment to get dry clothes, and now they were parked outside the Russell residents, staring at the front door together. The almost black clouds blocked most of the sun, tricking the street lights into thinking it was night, and bathing the front door in an orange glow. It gave the day an even more uncomfortable feel.

"I'll tell her," Morgan said and was out of the Denali before Nick could object.

She jogged up to the front door and pressed the doorbell.

#

Nick watched her go to the door. After a moment, the door opened and Barbara invited her inside. He knew the conversation would be quick, giving him little time to deal with his own problem.

Slowly, almost achingly slow, Nick turned in his seat too stare at the ghost of a little girl sitting in the back of the Denali. She wore a white dress that was a little too big for her, long braids, and a cheery smile. And she did not belong in the vehicle.

"What do you want?" Nick asked.

She smiled at him.

"Tell me what you want and why you're following me."

She reached out to touch his shoulder and he bolted away, pressing against the door. She let her hand drop.

"You can't run from this forever," she told him.

"Watch me," he snarled.

"No. You can't."

"Is he dead? Is Russell dead?"

She cocked her head. "Who?"

"The man you told me… My friend!"

"I don't know. I'm here to make sure you go back."

"Go back… To that place? Where you came from?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just know you have to go back. And you'll go to get rid of me, won't you Nick?"

"Damn fucking straight," Nick spat. He looked up, seeing Morgan running toward the Denali.

He turned around, trying to look like nothing unusual had just happened. Morgan clamored in, spraying water as she did. She sat down and pushed her hair back from her face.

"Go," she breathlessly ordered.

"How was she?"

"She knew something was wrong when he didn't call to wake her up. She told me to find him."

Nick put the Denali in drive and headed back to the interstate. He passed several turns to his house.

"Aren't you going to get clothes?"

"Does it look like it's going to stop raining?"

"Then why'd you stop for me?"

Nick looked strangely at her. "I… I don't know."

She sighed and wiped water off her face. "I'm worried about you. You keep acting … I dunno. Weirder than normal."

Nick didn't offer an explanation. He glanced in the rearview mirror, at the girl sitting behind them. She smiled, offering a little wave. She looked sweet, innocent, and adorable.

Nick quickly looked away. Dead children riding in his back seat were anything but sweet, innocent, or adorable.

#

Russell woke to a dog licking his face. He pushed the animal away and took in what he could see. There was a fire in the center of the cave – he could tell it was a cave from the high ceiling overhead. The Paiutes around him were talking and laughing, as if this were a lodge meeting. He looked toward his feet when bright light lit the cave. He could only see sky through the cave opening. Rain was pummeling the entrance and streams of water ran into the cave, but ditches had been dug out and fortified with stones, so the water ran along the sides of the cave and disappeared into the darkness at the back. While he was watching ragged tongues of lightening ripped apart the sky.

He pulled himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth as the skin on his back stretched the wounds. He looked down at his leg. It was set between four branches and tied off with strips of cloth.

"Hey. Going somewhere?"

Jeremiah knelt down. He was carrying a metal plate with steaming food in one hand and silverware in his other hand. He smiled.

"Do you remember who I am?"

"Yes. Jeremiah."

He nodded and held out the plate of food. "Are you hung—"

"I wanted to look outside."

"Okay. Just a sec." He sat the plate and silverware down and then crouched. "Lean on me and work your way up with your good leg."

Russell gritted his teeth as he worked his way up onto his good leg. The man's arm rubbed against the wounds on his back, making him tear up. Once he was on his feet, Russell wasn't sure this was one of his better ideas. His back throbbed in pain, more than the rest of his body, but less than his broken leg.

"You're, uh, you're white," Jeremiah began. "Maybe this isn't—"

"I need to see outside," Russell insisted.

"Okay. Let's move then."

The two made their slow way to the cave entrance. Russell began feeling water mist his face before he could see over the edge. Two more hops and he was able to see down into the river valley. Most of it was flooded. Houses were partially submerged in most places. In a few, all he saw was the tops of roofs. The water looked very close to the slope up to the cave, but Russell's common sense told him there was still quite a bit of land which wasn't submerged. Mother Nature was giving the world a good scrubbing!

"How long have I been out? Since the last time I was awake; in the wagon."

"Two days."

Russell leaned hard on Jeremiah when the world did a quick spin.

"Okay. As your unofficial doctor you are laying back down. You lose anymore color and we'll start calling you the albino."

Russell tried to smile at the joke, but he hurt too much for that. The two went back to where he was lying. Russell stopped when Jeremiah did, staring at the bloody blankets. Jeremiah said something in Paiute. Two men tossed blankets to a woman and she replaced the bloody ones with the clean ones. Clinging and leaning hard on Jeremiah, Russell laid back down on the makeshift bed. Jeremiah helped him get situated before checking his leg. He suddenly made a deep frown.

"Is it bad?" Russell asked.

Jeremiah looked up, like he was surprised by the question. "What?"

"You were frowning. Is my leg bad?"

"No. Wh— Oh! No. I was listening to a football game." He smiled as he showed Russell his Bluetooth earphone hidden under his long hair. "Your leg's good. I don't see anything that says it's infected."

Russell quietly chuckled. "Let me call my wife to let her know I'm alive."

"Done. I called Nick once we got up here, before it started raining again. He sounded relieved when I told him you were alive, just banged up some. He told me to tell you Barbara was his next call – your wife I guess."

Russell nodded. Jeremiah started to stand but Russell grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back.

"You and Nick seem close."

"I guess we are. Why?"

"Tell me why Nick has been acting so strange lately."

Jeremiah's humor melted. "What do you mean?"

"I was told Nick suffered some severe head trauma a while ago and for months he hallucinated about a dead co-worker. I was assured that he's fine but I don't think he is. I've seen him staring at a spot like he's watching someone. Sometimes he talks to someone under his. He avoids taking two very particular types of calls, saying they make him queasy – thing is, they aren't the most disturbing calls we get. When he is on those calls, he's on edge the whole time."

Jeremiah told him, "I don't hear a question."

"Is Nick hallucinating again?"

Jeremiah smiled, but years of dealing with the guilty had trained Russell's eye. When he told Russell, "Nick isn't seeing any hallucination," Russell knew Jeremiah was lying.

"He's not?"

Jeremiah slowly shook his head. "Nope."

"And how do you know?"

"Well, he'd see things that weren't there if he was hallucinating, wouldn't he? He's never said he's seen things that aren't there."

"He hasn't?"

"Nope. Did you need anything else?"

The men stared at each other. Russell shook his head.

"You aren't helping him by hiding this, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah stood. "We'll get you home, safe and sound, when the rain stops."

Jeremiah walked to the other side of the cave, joining a poker game.

Russell sighed. Another person who knew what was going on with Nick and refused to say anything. He was starting to feel a little jealous at the loyalty people showed toward Nick, but more frustrated because no one was trying to help Nick when he needed it the most.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**One Week Later**

Russell hobbled over to a bookshelf and looked over the books.

"D.B.! Get back on that couch!" Barbara ordered. "And you have company."

He turned and smiled to see Nick waiting with her. Barbara walked over to Russell and guided him toward the couch.

She picked up his casted leg and sat it on the pillows stacked on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"I am going to Velcro you to this couch!"

"Oh honey. I'm bored. I needed something to do," Russell said. It came out whiny, but he had such cabin fever he didn't care

"You have thousands of movies and a hundred television stations. You have a laptop with all sorts of work and games and I don't know what else. Find something that doesn't require you moving. At all." She wagged her finger at Nick. "Do not let him get off this couch or you'll be in hot water too."

"Yes, ma'am," Nick said with a smile.

Barbara shook her head as she left the room. "He'll be the death of me yet!"

Nick chuckled. He eased into a chair with a heavy sigh, looking around the room. Russell noticed a light green bruise on his right cheek.

"Where'd you get the…" Russell rubbed his cheek when Nick looked at him.

"Oh. Morgan. When I wouldn't let her go back to get you she punched me."

"Nick, I—"

"Don't… Don't blow it up. It's fine. I've had worse, from worse people, and for worse reasons. She was just scared."

"Okay. This time."

Nick just smiled. "You asked me to stop by tonight. What's up?"

"I'm stuck here for another six weeks so I talked to Ecklie and we agree it's time to get an assistant supervisor again. Think you can handle it this time?"

Nick shook his head as he chuckled. "I can try."

"Okay. Well, here's your first job." Russell pointed at a stack of folders. "My open cases. I split them up among you four so all you need to do is hand them out. And reviews are due in two weeks. Oh. Also, Greg, Archie, and that weird DNA tech, the one that dresses like she's from Alice in Wonderland, what's her name, Adrian or Aubrey or Abby – whatever her name is – they're all up for their cost of living raise. Make sure that paperwork gets done."

Nick had grabbed the folders while Russell was talking and looked through the ones with sticky notes that had his name.

"Will do. Can I swap out two of these cases for two of someone else's?

"Which two?"

"Two found in a burned out warehouse, and this hanging."

Russell didn't answer. He had intentionally put the cases in Nick's stack, hoping he would notice and ask to switch them out. It was devious, it was underhanded, and it was Russell's last effort to deal with the problem before he decided if a more permanent action should be taken.

Nick looked up at him.

"Can I?" Nick asked again.

Russell slowly sat back.

"Is that a problem?" Nick asked.

"Why do you always ask to pass on fires and anything that remotely looks like a suicide?"

Caught off-guard Nick smiled. Nick smiled for more reasons than most people had expressions for – happy, angry, sarcastic, gloat, 'I told you so', and 'this makes me uncomfortable.' Russell had hit on the 'this makes me uncomfortable.'

"I just… They make me queasy. All that smoke and smell of burned flesh. I just can't—" Nick stopped talking.

"Suicides don't have smoke or the smell of burnt flesh."

The smiled changed to his 'this moment _really_ makes me uncomfortable' one. He stood.

"Never mind." He headed for the door. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Nick."

"Yeah?" He stopped and turned.

"Sit down."

"No. We're busy tonight."

"You on vacation for a week."

"I meant I have to be somewhere."

"You're running."

Nick stopped walking. He looked at the door, at his escape. "Running? What do you think I'm running from?"

"I can't recall anything traumatic happening to you with those two types of calls, so you're going to have to tell me. What is going on Nick?"

Nick looked down at the file folders. "Nothing. Nothing is going on."

"Are you hallucinating again?

"Don't know. Am I?"

"That's it, isn't it? You're hallucinating again. Nick… You have to take some time off. You have to deal with this."

Nick's look darkened and his smile slid away. He was angry with Russell.

"Deal with what, exactly? What do you know about me, Russell? What do you _think_ you know?

"I know that you're running and you are not okay."

Nick walked to the door.

"Nick, please come back and sit down."

He paused at the door, and then left.

Russell heaved a sigh. He grabbed his remote and had just turned the television on when Nick came back in, without the folders. He walked up to Russell.

"And if I were?" Nick demanded.

"If you were what?"

"Seeing things?"

Russell muted the television. "Then you need to get help."

"And if I were already doing that?"

"I'd say good."

Nick shook his head, as if clearing cobwebs from his mind. "D.B., you have no idea what… You don't…" His eyes watered. "I was never like this. I was never… That couple, they…" A tear slid down his face and he sneered at it, looking somewhere else.

"The couple that tried to beat you to death?"

"Yes," Nick hissed.

"You're still angry about that?"

"Yes! I should have done something else. I should have ignored everything. But I didn't. I didn't and…"

"Wow."

Nick was surprised by the response. "Wow? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that, Nick, you have got some pent up anger there."

"They made me change. I was happy the way I was. I was in control. Now… Everything is out of control."

"You're having nightmares about the attack?"

"No! You think I'm talking about the attack?"

The question stunned Russell for a moment. He had been sure Nick wasn't talking about the couple who attacked him. What the hell was he talking about? "I _did_. What are we talking about?"

"They changed me. That couple _changed_ me."

"They changed you how?"

"I… You… I can't talk about this with you. Night, D.B."

"Nick, what are we talking about?" Russell asked, watching him leave.

"Nothing. Good night, Russell."

He left with a light slam of the door. Russell was confused but he decided it wasn't worth worrying about. He turned the volume back on. Barbara returned and sat down next to him, snuggling up to his side.

"D.B."

"Yes, dear?" he asked. The news had come on and his attention was riveted to it.

"Honey."

"Yes?"

She grabbed the remote and turned off the television. He focused on her with a smile; which was good because her stern expression said she was not happy about something.

"I was listening, you know," she told him.

"Yes. I knew that."

"To everything you two said."

"Nick and I?"

She sat up with a frustrated sigh. "Yes. He was trying to tell you something important."

"He suffers from PTSD and sometimes he thinks he sees things that aren't there. That's what he was trying to say."

Her heavy sigh told him he was about to get a lecture. He was wrong. She handed him the remote and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Am I right?" he asked.

"Not even remotely. Let's watch the news."

He decided not to argue with her. In the end, it didn't really matter either. Despite his mood swings, he was still as reliable. His work was still impeccable. Maybe it was time he also looked the other way about Nick's issue.

#

He heard hoof clops in the dark, coming toward him. Jeremiah emerged from the tall brush that surrounded the river that once again bubbled with life. He stopped next to Nick, leaning on the saddle horn.

"Thought I saw you go by. Why didn't you stop?"

Ansel Little Foot came through the brush on his burro. The man had fourteen horses, all breeds with papers to show their long, successful lineage. Horses that were well trained, that he let any of his children or grandchildren or friends ride. But Ansel always rode his burro.

"Yeah. I was just seeing if there was anything left of the crime scene." Nick looked away.

Jeremiah got off, standing next to Nick. Ansel joined them, sitting on his little burro. The headlights of Nick's truck shed dim light on the three – he'd parked it a good twenty feet back from the revived river. In the dim light, he could barely make out the faces of the two Paiute, but he was able to make out other things. Other things he didn't want to be seeing.

"You are a gifted man, Nick Stokes." Ansel spoke quietly.

Jeremiah and Nick both looked at him. He pointed a weathered, bent finger into the air, across the river.

"On that land over there, we have sent many ancestors to the village of the Creator of Men." Ansel nodded, resting his hand on the saddle horn. "But not all of them go. Sometimes they are angry or evil or both and stay to do harm. Sometimes they have work to finish or want to wait for someone to go with them before they leave here. Sometimes they were never humans to begin with but a spirit in human form and death lets them return to their true form."

Nick looked away. He didn't want to be talking about this.

Jeremiah chuckled quietly. "Stop, Grampa. You're scaring him."

"Am I scaring you Nick?"

"No," Nick answered, more forceful than he'd planned.

Jeremiah looked between the two. He heard what Russell had been unable to hear Nick say. With a single nod, he accepted the truth. "You can see the spirits across the river, Nick. Did not see that one coming. Should have. Russell was asking some strange questions about you in the cave, but I thought he was just hurting. This is definitely unexpected."

Nick's head jerked around and he met eyes with Jeremiah. He wanted to say no or shake his head, but he was froze. How had Jeremiah just guessed the truth? And what strange things had Russell asked in the cave?

Jeremiah's smile spread. "You do. You can see them. You were…" Jeremiah frowned suddenly and cried out, "Oh Grampa!"

"What?" Ansel asked

"You told me I had to come back to help someone. You let me think I had to help Russell!"

"You're a seer. You should understand what I meant."

Nick watched Jeremiah shake a finger at Ansel, who was not looking remorseful in the least. "You tricked me!"

"I did as the sprits asked," was Ansel's excuse.

"What are you two talking about?" Nick asked. He wasn't certain he wanted to know.

Jeremiah shook his head a couple times, but still smiled. "Grampa knows I don't get his half-truth gibberish. I was supposed to come back and help you."

"I don't need help."

"You refused to tell me you can see the ancestors, Nick. Denial is the first sign that you do need help."

"No. I don't see anything."

"You saw them the night of the flood too, didn't you?" Ansel asked. "Isn't that how you saved your friend's lives?"

"They were… No. I didn't. I…" Nick stopped, but it was too late. He knew from Jeremiah's smile and Ansel's nod that they figured out his secret.

"What did they do that night?" Jeremiah asked. "You got Morgan and you out before the water came. What did they say to you?"

Nick looked down at the river. His memories of that night were still vivid.

"We didn't belong here, and we had to run," Nick told him.

Ansel's voice broke through his memories. "Usually the spirits talk in circles. You were lucky, Nick. Lucky."

Jeremiah and Nick both looked at Ansel, surprised to hear him say that.

"And you don't talk in circles?" Jeremiah asked him. "Do you have any idea how much easier this would have been if you'd just told Nick and I why I was back? And what about Russell? He could have died, Grampa."

"But he didn't, and I couldn't. I didn't know what was going to happen. I only knew what I had to do, what small part I played in all of this. Spirits usually tell you just enough to get your nose cut off."

The men laughed at the elder's joke. Ansel almost smiled – a rare expression for him. He looked at them.

"There are five on this land that are seers: Emily White Bear, Jeremiah, his father, Rachel Two Feathers, and me. But she's a teenager. She doesn't have any idea what she's doing. It skips a generation in her family. Her grandmother was a seer before her and her mother doesn't want her to follow the old ways."

"No one in my family is a seer," Nick said.

"Are you sure?" Ansel asked.

Nick hesitated.

"Have you asked?" Ansel asked.

"I was adopted, and so was my brother and sister. I guess I don't really know."

Ansel nodded. "Then the truth is you don't know. Seers were always seers, but some come into it later than others."

"They always come into it?" Nick asked.

"Well, maybe not always. Sometimes it skips a generation." Ansel did smile this time. "And I get stuck teaching a teenager."

Nick and Jeremiah laughed.

"You needed to meet him so you could help him," Ansel told them.

"Who needed to meet who?"

"Yes," Ansel answered. He turned his burro and headed back into the night. "You did."

They watched Ansel ride into the night. Nick's cell phone began playing a song and he dug it out of his pocket. Morgan's face smiled at him, alerting him to a text message. He checked it.

"Is that the hottie you came with?" Jeremiah asked.

"Yep. I'm surprised I even got this text out here. I thought there was no reception."

"It's hit or miss with text messages. So you're into her?"

"Nope."

"So I can ask her out and you won't care?"

Nick looked at him. "Knock yourself out. I don't understand anything your grandfather just said, about him helping him. Who was helping who?"

"We helped each other. And he says he doesn't speak in circles!" Jeremiah climbed back on his horse. "I'm here until Monday. Can you let Morgan know?"

"Sure. So am I supposed to come back and talk to him?"

"Yeah. He's expecting you next weekend."

"He said that? He never said that to me."

"Nick, you've dealt with the old ones long enough to know you need to ask these things or risk making them mad for things you don't know about. Always pretend you know nothing. That's how I've lived this long on the Res without going crazy."

Nick returned Jeremiah's smile.

"Nigh, Nick."

"Good night."

He watched Jeremiah ride into the night also before turning back to watch across the river In the dark there were darker forms moving and he could hear them talking in voices no louder than whispers. Nick walked back to his pickup and got in. When he turned around, his headlights lit up the little girl who had ridden to Las Vegas with him and Morgan, only to disappear as soon as they arrived back at the Moapa Reservation.

Nick got out and walked to the front of the pickup. She smiled.

"Did you lose your friend?" she asked.

Nick's phone beeped and he looked at it. Another text message from Morgan

"No."

"Good. Are you going to meet her?"

Nick's head jerked up. The two stared at each other.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Aren't you hungry yet? Isn't it time to eat?" With a smile she disappeared.

Nick stood for a long time, staring at the spot, at the small patch of small white flowers that were there.

Nick finally got back in and headed to Frank's Diner to meet Morgan.

#

Nick walked into Frank's Diner, looking for her. The place was almost dead at this time of night on a weekday, so she was easy to spot sitting alone at a table in the back corner of the diner. He walked over and sat down. Morgan smiled.

"Hey," Nick said.

"Enjoying vacation?"

"Yeah. Only wish it were longer."

She smiled, nodding.

The waitress walked up and Nick put in his order. Morgan watched the woman, even as she walked away. Nick leaned on the table.

"I was surprised to get your lunch invitation," Nick told her.

She laughed. "I find it weird we call it lunch."

"But it is. 2 AM to us is 2 PM to the rest of the world. It all pans out in the end."

"I guess. Took my system forever to adjust to it though."

"That was more than I needed to know."

She just laughed.

"You want something, Morgan. Why am I here?"

She took a deep breath and smiled. He could see she was nervous about what she was going to talk about.

"Okay. Nick…" She cleared her throat as she sat up straight, as if her height would help her with what was coming. "I know that you can see ghosts. I know that you sometimes talk to them and that you are running from them."

Nick stared at her, which only made her more nervous but she pressed on.

"And I'm worried. If I can figure this out, eventually other people are going to figure this out too. I think Greg knows, I think you know Greg knows, but there's talk in the lab about it. People think you're going crazy and that you shouldn't even be in the lab because you talk to yourself in the lab and at crime scenes. But I know that's not the case. You're trying to reason with them and deal with their issues. Look, Nick, it's okay to have this happen. You should embrace it as part of you, of who you are. I also want you to know I am here whenever you need me to be. If you need to call me or find me to have a," she fingered air quotes, "conversation while you're talking to one of them, then I'm okay with that. So yes, I did have a motive tonight but I don't want anything from you. I'm here for you. I want you to know that. And if there's ever—"

"You do talk a lot when you're nervous, know that?" Nick asked.

Her mouth hung open on the unspoken syllable. She snapped it closed as her face clouded over with anger.

"I am trying to be your friend!"

Nick smiled.

"I know you are."

Now she was confused.

"You do."

"Yeah. Why else would you risk admitting to believing in ghosts?"

"Well… I do. I think I've seen several. They're really not people like you hear in stories, more just shapes that look like filled in shapes of people."

"You said shapes twice."

"Are you making fun of me? Of my belief?"

He shook his head.

"Damnit Nick! I'm trying to be nice!"

He smiled, leaning forward. "I know."

She stopped talking, staring at him. "You don't need my help though, do you?"

He sat back, looking out the windows. He smiled a little and it looked so sad she almost wanted to cry.

The waitress stopped by their table to set down drinks and Nick didn't even acknowledge her. He looked at Morgan with watery eyes.

"I need all the help I can get, yeah. Yes, Greg does know. But I don't talk to them at the lab, or at every crime scene – contrary to the long-standing rumor. After I was attacked, I picked up this habit of talking to myself and answering myself, so people often think I'm talking to someone who's not there. That's not the case most of the time."

"They don't follow you?"

"Sometimes, if I acknowledge them. I try to avoid that."

"But if you see them, you should help them."

"No. If I see them, I should let them move on and not interfere. It's like trying to stop a bear from killing a salmon, Morgan. It's just the way nature works, and jumping in the middle of it doesn't help anyone."

"It'd help the salmon."

"Until another bear came along and I wasn't there to save it."

She saw his point but it made her frown. "I always thought if you could see them you should help them."

"Apparently not, and I've been doing the right thing to ignore them if they ignore me. Now look, Morgan—"

The conversation paused as the waitress sat down both their plates, made sure they didn't need anything else, and left.

"Look, you cannot go around talking about this, okay? Why I even admitted this to you is beyond me, but you cannot. There is more at stake with someone trying to make a case I am crazy, than keeping it a secret."

"I know. I didn't plan on talking to anyone. Not even Greg – he does know, doesn't he?"

"Yes. He's known for a long time because he was there when this whole thing started. He saw the disaster that followed, helped clean up the mess, and has been running interference since. I'd be destroyed without his help."

"I'll help too."

"Thank you."

She smiled. "But when we're at a crime scene, can you tell me when we're not alone? Just so I know before I get chills." She started in on her meal.

"Chills?"

"Yeah. Whenever there's a dead person around, I get the chills. It can be 110 and I still get the chills. My grandma, on my mom's side, had it too. She says mom has it, but mom just ignores it."

"Oh. Everywhere or just at certain crime scenes?"

"Anywhere there's a dead person. Do you only see certain types?"

"If they died in a fire or committed suicide, and for some reason, any that hang out at Paiute burial sites."

"Just Paiute?"

"I don't know. I haven't tried testing it anywhere else, and I don't see dead people in our graveyards.

"That is weird, and so specific. It has to mean something.

"Perhaps." Nick smiled. "It's always a relief to hear you're not alone when things get rough."

"Right?"

Nick changed the subject to her latest case, and Morgan happily followed his lead.


End file.
